


Dreams Passing By

by andthewasp



Series: the anti soulmate au [4]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Road Trips, Soulmates, anti soulmate au, other losers are mentioned periodically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthewasp/pseuds/andthewasp
Summary: Richie and Eddie tackle road trips, viral videos, marriage, and whatever comes after that.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: the anti soulmate au [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1266353
Comments: 13
Kudos: 78





	Dreams Passing By

**Author's Note:**

> i had a really super bad day and it gave me just enough motivation to finish this. i dont think its that good BUT there will be more of these two, i promise!!
> 
> i find road trips very intimidating to write, so please have some slack with me because i tried my hardest uwu
> 
> enjoy xoxo

_ “There is no end to the adventures we can have _

_ if only we seek them with our eyes open.” _

—Jawaharlal Nehru

It’s raining as they leave Washington and enter Idaho, the sky a purplish sort of grey. Richie is humming along to the beat of the rain against the windows, strumming his ukulele with his feet up on the dashboard and head tipped back to the roof of the car.

Even though it’s raining, Richie pesters Eddie to pull over next to the  **WELCOME TO IDAHO** sign. It’s bright blue and stands out amongst the plains; tall grass in varying shades of yellow and green that go up to Richie’s knees when he steps out of the passenger door.

“Make it quick,” Eddie shouts over the wind, which has begun to pick up. The grass is up to Eddie’s waist, and he feels as if it’s about to swallow him whole. The dirt underneath his shoes feels wet and loose, very distinctly different from the firm streets of Seattle.

Richie hands Eddie the camera as he steps up to the sign. His wild black hair is blowing in every direction and his glasses are foggy, but Richie slaps on a smile and throws up a peace sign.

A click, a shutter, and a flash, then the whirring of the camera printing the little white slip. Eddie hurries back into the car to let the photo develop as Richie hovers around the sign with the camera that has just been handed to him, ignoring the rain.

The car is still warm when Eddie slips into the driver's seat.

Eddie has always liked cars. He liked the simple intricacies of them. He liked opening up the hood and being able to dig through machinery and wires to find the problem, cutting a wire here, or pressing a button there.

Replacing the part altogether.

He looks up as Richie opens the door and plops back into the seat, wetter than Eddie is. His hair has been slicked back with the rain, and his glasses placed on the top of his head as he holds another slowly developing photo in his hand.

Before Eddie can say anything, Richie is placing a messy kiss right on Eddie’s mouth. He tastes like rainwater and cinnamon gum and a little like the joint that he smoked before they left.

They kiss for a little while, uncomfortable as they stretch over the gap between their seats to focus solely on each other. Eddie likes kissing, he had come to find. Or maybe he just likes Richie.

Once they split and Eddie is pulling back onto the road, Richie grabs Eddie’s photo from the dashboard and holds it up next to the one that Eddie took.

Richie’s picture is still fading into full technicolor, but even faded Eddie can tell what it is. **R + E** is written in black sharpie on the bright blue sign, cementing that they had been there.

“Cute,” Eddie says, even though he means,  _ permanent. _

They pin both of the photos to the felt ceiling of Eddie’s car.

“One state down,” says Richie, reaching around the seats to grab his ukulele from the back.

Only thirteen more until Maine.

=

**Trashmouth is traveling** @richietoziersings

bye washington!! look how enthused spaghetti is  instagram.com/p/hg70GG3s...

**Trashmouth is traveling** @richietoziersings

hey @bevmashanscom please take care of our kitties

**Trashmouth is traveling** @richietoziersings

hey @benhanscomarch please don’t let bev forget to take care of our kitties

=

They end their first day in the middle of Montana, two more photos added to the ceiling of the car. This time of Eddie and the sign, and the second of another **R + E** that Richie has scribbled.

Their only options are hotels that are too expensive or run down motels, where Eddie doesn’t trust the blankets. They find a mostly vacant rest area to park in, the only other sign of life being several trucks across the lot. They brush their teeth in the bathrooms and study the maps that are hanging on the walls. Eddie resists the urge to buy a coffee from the vending machine.

Instead they retreat to the back of the car, where Eddie has removed the back seats and shoved in Richie’s old mattress, covered in all of the pillows and blankets from their apartment. They both take a melatonin, in an effort to be well rested for the drive in the morning, and Richie swallows down the pills that he’s been taking for the last year and a half or so.

“I’m proud of you,” Eddie says as Richie swallows the last of many and crawls under the blankets, close to Eddie, even though there’s still a bit of room on the other side of the makeshift bed. There have been days where they had to fight and yell to get Richie to take his medication. Days where Richie was too sad to get out of bed but didn’t want to close his eyes because there were no Dreams waiting for him.

When Richie doesn’t answer, Eddie pulls Richie closer. Wraps both of his arms around his head and intertwines their legs together. Into Richie’s hair, Eddie’s breath steadies and slows until he is asleep. A minute later, Richie’s tight grip on Eddie’s hips loosen as he follows suit.

=

Eddie stirs out of sleep sometime well into the night, only being disturbed by the sound of a car passing by their end of the lot. It takes a moment for him to remember where he is. No Thor at his feet, or busy city sounds outside their window. His pillow feels more like an arm than a pillow.

He tilts his head to the side. It is, in fact, Richie’s arm.

The  _ Hello Kitty  _ watch on Richie’s wrist, which is just barely visible from Eddie’s position on his arm, displays the time as  **3:47 AM** , which then blinks into  **3:48 AM** after a moment.

The streetlight nearby streams in through the back widow, and Eddie takes a moment to ponder the idea of  _ curtains  _ for their makeshift home. Then, he rolls back on his side and wraps himself back around Richie, whose eyes remain closed and his breaths stay even.

Richie is casted in an eerie sort of glow from the streetlight, his face soft and open with sleep. The light highlights his freckles and moles, and leaves a shadow across the bump on his nose. Without glasses Richie doesn’t look much like himself, his eyes not magnified and his eyebrows pulled in to a slight frown.

Eddie presses his mouth to the corner of Richie’s mouth, then to his jaw, nose, cheek, eyelids, and stops at the side of his head. The kisses are soft and barely there, just enough to ground Eddie.

He’s not Dreaming, despite the tickle at the back of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach.

_ Maybe I am, _ Eddie thinks as he drifts off again.  _ It’s not like I would know. _

=

It’s a fifteen hour drive from their spot in Montana to their next stop in Wisconsin. Richie poses with the North Dakota sign, pointing at the words that say  **LEGENDARY** and his other hand pointing at himself. The Minnesota sign is big and made out of stone, and busy with tourists, so they get a picture together when an eldery Chinese woman offers to take it for them. Richie holds Eddie up like a bride, and Eddie tosses his head back towards the sun, warm on his face.

=

**Trashmouth is traveling** @richietoziersings

i recorded this little song on my phone while we were driving through wisconsin

enjoy xo  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLKPgbcYQ_g

=

[VIDEO DESC. - “A TRAVEL SONG - RICHIE TOZIER”

Richie Tozier sits in the passenger seat of a moving car, his ukulele in his hands and a notebook on his lap, Eddie Kaspbrak next to him behind the wheel. Just behind them is their messy little nest, just piles of blankets and pillows on top of each other, as well as their photos pinned to the ceiling. From the way the camera shakes and the rumble of the road causes a slight buzzing sound, it is clear that the phone is precariously balanced on the dashboard.

“You ready?” asks Richie, turning his head towards Eddie.

Eddie responds by turning on his blinker and switching lanes.

Richie turns to the camera and grins, then starts playing his song.]

=

_ I awoke to trees passing by at the speed of 65 _

_ It took a while to realize where I had spent the night _

_ Through sunlight squint my eyes, so see you by my side _

_ Just sit back and enjoy the ride _

_ [chorus] _

_ I don’t need a bed, _

_ no I’m not tired yet, _

_ so go full speed ahead _

_ We’ll end up where we get, _

_ and as we bid adieu _

_ to the towns that we’re passing through, _

_ I don’t care where we’re headed to, _

_ I will go anywhere with you. _

_ Looking down as we fly through the night over the Seattle skyline _

_ It all looks different from this height, a city simplified _

_ Every home a tiny light with a family inside _

_ So we wave goodbye to mine _

_ [chorus] _

_ And the bags stay packed for weeks at a time even though I been back _

_ I leave them cause I don’t know when I’ll be taking off again _

_ [chorus] _

\-- _ I Will Go Anywhere With You,  _ Richie Tozier

=

[Richie and Eddie sneak glances at each other and make funny faces throughout the whole video. 

When Richie finishes, Eddie says warmly, “It was okay.”

As Richie reaches forward to stop the recording, he says, “one take baby!”

END OF VIDEO DESC.]

=

The sky is scattered with stars as they enter Wisconsin. They’re later than they intended.

“I was hoping to check into a motel tonight,” Eddie groans as he pulls to the side of the road. Richie just claps his hands together.

“I like spending the night in Lucielle.” There’s a  _ thump _ as Richie removes his feet from the dashboard and pats the dust he left behind from his sneakers lovingly. “Ain’t that right baby?”

Eddie honks the horn, startling Richie. That sends both of them into fits of laughter, the kind where you quickly forget what you were laughing about and instead just hone in on the feeling of being blissfully happy.

It’s Eddie’s turn to pose with the giant wooden “Wisconsin Welcomes You!” sign. In careful, practiced handwriting, Richie writes  **NO SLEEP/NO DREAMS, R+E.**

Eddie looks over his shoulder. “I forget we don’t share them. Sometimes,” he adds quickly.

Richie doesn’t hesitate to pull Eddie into his arms, lifting him up off the ground and spinning him underneath the stars. Into the smooth skin of Eddie’s cheek, Richie says, “life’s a dream with you,” and it only sounds a  _ little bit  _ like a cheesy song lyric.

As they walk back to the car, photos in hand, Richie bumps Eddie’s shoulder lightly with his fist. “Seriously, Spaghetti.”

“What?”

“Imagine if  _ we  _ had the Dreams.”

Eddie stops abruptly and trips over himself, but Richie catches his wrist at the last second. He manages to collect himself, his heart beating fast and the doctor in his brain overanalyzing Richie’s words.

“I don’t know what you mean.” They’ve never really spoken about the Dreams, not so candidly. The absence of the Dreams in Eddie and the gaping, barely scabbed over wound that the Dreams had left in Richie made the topic easy to skirt over.

Richie’s hand is still on Eddie’s wrist. He’s certain that the other man can feel his heartbeat beneath his fingers.

_ Soulmates _ was more of an open topic between them. It was easy to slip into their own definition. They’re young, in love, and are soulmates. The Dreams were an entirely different subject.

“I can’t imagine you being able to put up with me while awake  _ and  _ asleep,” Richie says, popping the uncomfortable bubble that had shot up around Eddie.

“You underestimate me.”

“I’m just saying,” Richie begins, finally letting go of Eddie after a calculated squeeze and moving to climb into the back of the car, ready to begin pinning the photos up. “You go to sleep, and bam! I’m there, ready to be just as annoying as I was before you even fell asleep.”

Eddie climbs back into the front seat and gets them back on the highway, keeping an eye out for a rest stop. “You underestimate me, Trashmouth.”

A sneaker is tossed into the front seat, followed by a second one. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if Richie was naked by the time he parked the car.

He nearly was. The car was barely in park before Richie was tugging Eddie through the gap in the seats and pressing his mouth to the first bit of skin he could touch.

“Does Wisconsin make you horny and philosophical?” Eddie asks, the final  _ L  _ becoming more of a whine as Richie works on getting Eddie’s clothes off.

Richie huffs a laugh. “It’s the smell of cheese, really romantic.”

They slip into an easy kiss. The car moves underneath them as Eddie leans over to one of the suitcases that they keep between the seats and the mattress, digging around in one of the pockets until he finds the cloth bag full of lighters, grinders, and a jar of weed.

Richie pumps his fist into the air and pulls Eddie into his lap. “God, you’re my soulmate,” he moans.

Eddie likes the way it sounds coming out of Richie’s mouth.

=

Sometimes Eddie wakes up feeling like he’s forgetting something.

He means to ask Richie about it, wonders if he feels the same thing. If he wakes up particularly well rested, and feels the echo of a presence.

_ Imagine if  _ we  _ had the Dreams,  _ Richie had said.

Eddie can imagine.

=

He’s startled, for a moment, when he wakes up in the back of the car and Richie isn’t next to him.

Then, Eddie hears faraway, tinny sounding music. Smells coffee, and maybe weed, but that could be lingering on them from the night before.

Eddie manages to wiggle on some boxers, a t-shirt, and a mismatched pair of socks, all belonging to Richie, then pulls a blanket with him as he exits the car.

Sure enough, Richie sits on the roof of the car, sunglasses over his eyes, joint between his fingers, and music playing from the nearly broken speakers of an old ipod. Eddie actually recognizes the song—  _ Love Today,  _ by MIKA. Richie likes to sing it loudly in their apartment, hitting the falsetto perfectly as he makes fried eggs and pretends that their cats are his adoring fans, watching him dance in his underwear and atrociously patterned shirts.

“Aren’t you cold?” asks Eddie as he climbs up. It’s early morning, a chill still clinging to the air even though the sun is high. He tosses the blanket over both of their shoulders and takes the cup that is passed to him, still full but no longer hot.

“I drive today?” Richie asks instead of a response. It’s more of a statement than a question.

“Sure.” Eddie gives in easily, resting his head against Richie’s shoulder. “We’re just about half way.”

Maine still seems impossibly far away. Yet, Eddie longs for more distance. More states for he and Richie to see, pictures to take, adventures to have.

“Lookit,” Richie says after a moment of digging through his sweatshirt pocket and passing the joint to Eddie. “We’re famous.”

It takes several seconds for Eddie to process what he’s looking at, before he realizes that it’s a twitter feed.

Eddie doesn’t understand twitter, or the internet in general really, but he’s subjected to it enough through Richie, who has a small following through the Seattle music scene.

But on Richie’s phone screen, there are hundreds of posts to scroll through, the top ones garnering thousands of likes and retweets. Most of the tweets mention  _ Richie Tozier,  _ or  _ hot doctor soulmate. _

When Eddie looks over at Richie, eyes wide, his sunglasses are pushed up onto his head and his smile is full of teeth. “When I posted that video on youtube, I barely had a thousand followers. This morning, I have nearly  _ three hundred thousand.” _

Eddie hits his shoulder. Richie proceeds to fall to his back, cackling and smacking the roof of the car.  _ “Richard Wentworth Tozier!”  _ Eddie shouts, but can’t suppress his grin as he looks down at Richie.

He throws his hands up. “I don’t know how it happened! We’re one hit wonders, Eds.”

Eddie turns back to the phone. There’s a tweet with fifty thousand likes, just a screencap from the video of Richie and Eddie looking at each other captioned,  _ damn! these bitches r gay! good for them! _

“This is ridiculous,” Eddie finally says after he feels he’s scrolled enough. “Aren’t I supposed to be the famous one?”

“Listen, Eddie, my love, you may have been listed as one of the top 1,685 physicians in the world as of 2018, but  _ I  _ got us on buzzfeed.”

Richie takes his phone as it’s passed, and looks at it absently. Presumably revelling in his newfound internet fame.

They sit on the roof by themselves for a little while, laughing at tweets or texting their friends. Once they get off the phone with Beverly (who has, thankfully, been looking after Thor and Cathy-Parr in their absence), they retreat back inside their home away from home, and hit the road once more.

=

**Trashmouth is traveling (and FaMoUs?!?)** @richietoziersings

hello , new followers. welcom to my twitter where post about music sometimes and mstly my cats and eddie

**Trashmouth is traveling (and FaMoUs?!?)** @richietoziersings

eds does not have twitter but thanks you all for the nice words. he respectfully asks that you all remember that he is a very sophisticated doctor and that im the only one allowed to call him secxy

**Trashmouth is traveling (and FaMoUs?!?)** @richietoziersings

im mostly just mad that a song i wrote in ten minutes in a video i filmed in five minutes went viral before the vid of me doing stnad up comedy at a middle school talent show did

**𝖇𝖊𝖛** @bevmarshanscom

@richietoziersings it’s bc your sexy doctor boyfriend is in this one

=

**BUZZFEED -- Who Is Richie Tozier, And More Importantly, Who Is His ‘Hot Doctor Soulmate’?**

=

**reddit.com**

**r/videos -** posted by u/mallerisms

**guy writes and films ‘travel song’ as he and soulmate go on a roadtrip**

youtu.be.com/watch?v=YLKPg...

=

**reddit.com**

**r/MadeMeSmile -** posted by u/anthill

**Cutest video of a Seattle musician and his soulmate**

youtu.be.com/watch?v=YLKPg...

=

THE Losers Club >

**Stan Uris:** I’m framing the Buzzfeed article about Richie and Eddie.

**Bev Marsh:** Which one?

**Bev Marsh:** [attatchment]

**Bev Marsh:** [attatchment]

**Bev Marsh:** [attatchment]

**Bill Denbrough:** That’s three too many.

**Mike Hanlon:** I liked the tweet that said Rich looks like someone threw him into trashcan with a blindfold and askd him to make an outfit

**Ben Hanscom:** i don’t even know what that means :(

**RICHIE <3: ** mr Trending on Twitter is getting us too lost in illinois to comment

**RICHIE <3: ** just kidding

**RICHIE <3: ** he requests that stanley frame the Trashcan Tweet, and that it would look good in our bathroom

**RICHIE <3: ** this is eddie BTW

=

They truly do get lost in Illinois. They don’t get to drive through Chicago, but instead end up at a beach in Michigan after making a detour. Several detours.

Further North than they anticipated, but hey. No time like the present.

Eddie knows they could be in Derry in a day with diligent driving. He’s sure Richie knows this. Still, they pull into the beach parking lot just as the sun begins to set. There aren’t many people around, a couple scattered here and there, or a girl running along the shoreline, a man with his dog.

Richie wastes no time, barely putting the car in park before he’s kicking off his shoes and sticking his toes into the sand. Eddie scrambles for their camera, grabbing it from the mess of blankets and capturing Richie’s moment. He’s in a child-like pose, legs apart and head tipped down, arms held out for balance. His hair is wild with the wind, and the pink sun highlights his freckled face and reflects off his glasses.

Eddie catches up quickly, abandoning his own shoes next to Richie’s.

“No sunsets like these in Seattle, eh?” Richie holds out his hand for Eddie to take. Their fingers slip easily into each other, like puzzle pieces.

_ From two different puzzles,  _ Eddie thinks, looking at their hands.

“The beaches in Seattle aren’t this clean either,” he notes, eyes moving past their hands to the pristine sand. This makes Richie laugh into Eddie’s palm, which he had pulled to his mouth to kiss. Within a few seconds he’s running off again, just managing to kick his jeans off and toss his shirt with reckless abandon. Into the water he goes, glasses and everything.

He’s underwater for a while, enough time for Eddie to step up close, just dipping his toes into the water. The waves splash against his ankles and leave tingling foam on this skin.

Black hair resurfaces. Water drips down his face and on his glasses, all the way down his neck and chest. He looks like a wet dog as he shakes the moisture from his hair, but even then, Richie straightens and smiles toothily. “Fresh water!” he cries happily, throwing his arms open and letting a particularly large wave hit him in the back.

It’s so stupid and so beautiful that it makes Eddie’s chest stretch and constrict. It’s not long before Eddie is abandoning his own shirt and pants, jumping into the lake after Richie.

The water feels cold, especially as the sun dips further beneath the horizon, but it doesn’t last long as Richie’s hands and arms glide over Eddie’s shoulders. It feels second nature for him to stretch up and press their mouths together.

A strong wave hits Richie’s back and sends both of them toppling under the water. Eddie can hear Richie’s muffled, warbled laughter under the water, pressed close to Eddie’s ear.

“God,” Richie breathes once they’ve resurfaced and he has Eddie propped up against him. “I want to marry you.”

There’s a certain kind of lilt in his tone, something reassuring and familiar. It resonates deep within Eddie, through his heart and his brain and his soul, pulling laughter out of him.

Richie’s mouth connects with Eddie’s shoulder as his arms come around his neck. “I love you,” follows the laughter that still falls out of Eddie. “I fucking love you.”

It feels ridiculous. It’s not a soft or tender moment. It’s hysterical, and feels like them. It doesn’t feel any different than Richie calling him  _ Eddie-Spaghetti, _ or Eddie chattering over Richie’s minor injuries around the house.

Another wave knocks them over, and further into each other they fall.

=

The sun has long since set on their beach in Michigan once they pull themselves out of the water. It’s freezing out; they all but sprint back to the car. Richie buries himself into one of their heavy quilts, and Eddie drowns in one of Richie’s weird secondhand finds, a sweatshirt that says  _ EAT TWAT, SMOKE POT, SMILE A LOT. _

Eddie’s old ipod is cycling through his teenage playlist. Every once in a while, Richie’s arm comes out of its cocoon to slap at Eddie with laughter or disbelief at whatever song comes on. He had a particularly stellar laughing fit during Eddie’s powerful rendition of  _ Waterloo. _

Things have quieted down after then after a streak of slower songs.  _ Love Of My Life  _ fades into  _ Come Sail Away  _ as Richie’s head pokes out of his blanket. His hair has dried wilder than usual, thanks to the combination of the freshwater and the quilt. “Eds?”

“Hm?” Eddie doesn’t look up from the styrofoam box of Chinese leftovers that he’s eating out of.

“What do you think of marriage?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“What do you  _ mean  _ ‘I don’t know’!”

“It means I don’t know! I’ve never really thought about it affecting me.”

The takeout is moved from Eddie’s hands to one of the front seats as Richie comes out of his blanket and throws himself across Eddie, a hand buried in Eddie’s soft beach curls. “I’d take you down to the chapel right now if I could. Or a courtroom, or a picturesque vineyard if my Spaghetti wants something fancy. Hell, we could throw all these miles away and get married by Elvis in Vegas--”

“I  _ know _ you would,” Eddie huffs.

Richie continues to roll around dramatically. He walks around on his knees, standing as tall as he can before his head starts bumping the ceiling and the photos they have tacked up there already. “We could be the next  _ When Harry Met Sally!” _

“Don’t start with  _ this--” _

_ “I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love th--” _

Eddie’s tackling Richie before he can continue his monologue, back into their mess of blankets. “You’re ridiculous.”

The  _ Elephant Love Medley  _ from Moulin! Rouge comes on just as Eddie is leaning into Richie. They enter character immediately, laughing as they roll around the bed and sing back and forth as Satine and Christian. 

“I don’t care about marriage, really,” Richie says after they’ve stopped singing and have buried themselves underneath their blankets, turned off their lights and music.

Eddie stays silent.

“I’m just, like. Stupid for you. Stupid, stupid.”

Eddie laughs.

“And part of being stupid, stupid in love is doing stupid stuff. Like falling in love with your doctor, and adopting many cats with him, and driving to Maine for him. Doesn’t it blow your mind that we could add anything we want to that? Matching tattoos, getting married, driving off cliffs…”

“First we were Harry and Sally, then we were Satine and Christian, now we’re Thelma and Louise?”

Richie throws out his arms, nearly whacking Eddie in the face. “It’s Richie and Eddie versus the world!”

That doesn’t sound so bad.

=

_ Come live with me and be my love, _

_ And we will all the pleasures prove, _

_ That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, _

_ Woods, or steepy mountain yields. _

_ And we will sit upon the Rocks, _

_ Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks, _

_ By shallow Rivers to whose falls _

_ Melodious birds sing Madrigals. _

_ And I will make thee beds of Roses _

_ And a thousand fragrant posies, _

_ A cap of flowers, and a kirtle _

_ Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle; _

_ A gown made of the finest wool _

_ Which from our pretty Lambs we pull; _

_ Fair lined slippers for the cold, _

_ With buckles of the purest gold; _

_ A belt of straw and Ivy buds, _

_ With Coral clasps and Amber studs: _

_ And if these pleasures may thee move, _

_ Come live with me, and be my love. _

_ Together awake and whilst we sleep, _

_ Proof my soul is thine to keep. _

_ My heart you hold within your hand; _

_ Your clutch is thee most grand. _

_ The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing _

_ For thy delight each May-morning: _

_ If these delights thy mind may move, _

_ Then live with me, and be my love. _

\--Christopher Marlowe,

_ The Passionate Shepherd to His Love _

=

**Trashmouth is traveling (and FaMoUs?!?)** @richietoziersings

i kno youre all here for my beautifool singing now but uhh haev you herd of eddie…  instagram.com/p/jhjUWjkh9...

**Trashmouth is traveling (and FaMoUs?!?)** @richietoziersings

i call this, ‘portrait of a man mid rendition of its all coming back to me now’’”  instagram.com/p/uoQQs3s…

=

_ “But it wouldn't be as awful as a summer in Ohio,” _ Richie is singing,  _ “Without cable, hot water, Vietnamese food, or _ you.”

The camera flashes and sputters. Richie hops off the sign, jogging over to Eddie. “How’re we lookin’, babycakes?”

Eddie watches the photo develop, acutely aware of Richie leaning over his shoulder. “Like we have so much to discover,” he says dryly. They’re approaching the end of their road. He’s not quite sure what awaits them there.

Richie scribbles his twitter handle on the bottom of the sign as Eddie walks back to the car with the photo. Two finger guns towards the camera and his tongue sticking out, Richie looks like he belongs on the cover of  _ Alternative Press. _

“What’s there to do in Ohio?” asks Eddie, once Richie has pulled the car away from the side of the road.

“Corn fields?” says Richie, after a moment. 

“Mm. Sounds like every other state before this.”

“Not everywhere can be as glamorous as Seattle!”

The sound of light tapping fills their silence as Eddie’s knee bounces. Then, “anywhere is better than Maine.”

It’s just about the only topic they’ve been avoiding on their long drive. The reason for the drive. Why they’re not flying, why Richie is accompanying Eddie as he essentially walks into the gates of hell.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Richie promises. His hand settles on Eddie’s knee, steadying it.

“There’s still time for you to run for the hills,” Eddie says as his head tips to the side, looking at Richie as he drives. “Abandon me and my issues, run away with some Ohio harlot.”

“I’ll stick with my Maine harlot, thank you very much.”

Eddie tosses a hand over his chest. “You speak so highly of me.”

In lieu of an answer, Richie continues his singing from before. _“I'll get on my knees, and pray I can state in my next bio: ‘I'm never gonna go back to Ohio!’”_

Cornfields and trees pass them by, reminding Eddie of how far away from Seattle they are. It’s quiet, and homey. Makes Eddie want to settle down in some suburb, with Richie and their cats. A grand piano, and a library stacked with books. A mailbox with their names on it.

_ When did Ohio get so romantic?  _ Eddie wonders.

=

Richie keeps driving through Pennsylvania and New York, stopping at an empty park where they can see the New York City skyline. They sit on the roof of the car, a box of classic NYC pizza between them.

It takes some convincing to get Eddie to take a picture  _ with  _ Richie, as opposed to Richie’s favored technique of candid and picturesque shots of him. The glittering buildings behind them, Richie’s arm around Eddie’s shoulder and mouth pressed to his cheek, Eddie thinks they look perfect.

=

**Trashmouth is traveling (and FaMoUs?!?)** @richietoziersings

final stop before the final stop  instagram.com/p/jfj3dWs…

a rare ncie photo of both of us!!

=

Eddie curls up in their blankets through most of Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire. He even sleeps, a little, focusing instead on the familiar nothingness in his dreams than on what awaits them in Maine. Richie wakes him up to continue their tradition of stopping at the signs, but otherwise, Richie stays behind the wheel while Eddie mopes in the back.

Every once in a while, Richie’s hand reaches back. Fingers against Eddie’s palm, or hand in his hair. It’s comforting, reassuring.

Distracting.

=

He wakes with a jolt when Richie shakes his shoulder.

“I need your guidance, Eds.”

Blinking away the sleep and feeling of deja vu, Eddie sits up. Richie’s still driving, and the sky outside is a tired sort of blue, like the sun is about to set.

“Where are we?”

“Maine.”

It takes a second for Eddie to process that information. They didn’t stop at the sign. “Oh,” he says. It feels like  _ all _ he can say.

“You think you can tell me where I’m going.”

“Right,” falls out of Eddie’s mouth. He crawls between the seats into the passenger side, trying to get a gather of where they are exactly in Maine. Are they close to Derry? A long ways away? Eddie feels slightly disoriented.

Richie is the most wonderful person he’s ever known, Eddie thinks. He knows exactly how to distract him, keeps him grounded in reality while still edging him towards the painful truth. “You’ll have to get on a highway, I can guide us from there.”

The rest of the drive feels like their longest stretch yet. Eddie’s nervous, biting his nails and bouncing his knees. Richie seems apprehensive, on edge, like he’s ready to reach out and grab Eddie in case he decides to jump out of the moving car.

Eddie’s breath noticeably hitches as the  _ DERRY WELCOMES YOU _ sign comes into view.

Richie grabs his hand, because he’s a saint.

They’ve been to Maine together once before, way back when. Eddie was just a bit annoyed, a bit inconvenienced with that trip. He didn’t like missing work just to visit his mother in his shitty hometown. Now, even after this long trek, Eddie still doesn’t feel ready.

They take their time driving through Derry, per Eddie’s request, even if Richie has already seen the important parts. They drive by the middle and high schools, then down Main Street and by the Paul Bunyon statue. Richie says it’s creepy.

Finally, Richie pulls onto the street. There’s the Kaspbrak home at the end of the street, white and a bit rundown with age, yet still exactly the same.

“I’m not ready,” he admits.

“We can turn around. Head right back to Seattle.” Richie sniffs awkwardly as he parks. “Or head south. Make our mark in Florida, or something.”

Eddie scoffs, wiping at his wet face. “I think the ghost of Sonia Kaspbrak would come down and smite me if we moved to Florida. She’d be afraid of me getting the West Nile virus, or something.”

Richie’s face is pulled in an unpleasant frown at Eddie’s words. He leans across the seats, pressing his mouth simply to the side of Eddie’s mouth, then slipping their lips to fit together. Once he pulls back, he says, “alright, Texas then.”

A laugh stumbles out of Eddie. Richie wipes at his wet cheeks, and presses a final kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Come on,” he says quietly. “You can do it.”

The way he says it makes Eddie feel like he can.

Out of the car they go, stretching their legs and pressing close to each other. It feels odd, to be open and affectionate in his front yard. In  _ Derry, _ even. The steps creak with each step, just as they always have done, and the windows on the front porch are covered in curtains, as if nothing has changed. Nothing really has, Eddie supposes.

Richie hovers slightly behind him as Eddie finds the spare key in the window sill. As he goes to put the key into the hole, Richie says, “I love you.”

It’s enough. The key slips into the slot, the door clicks, and opens.

=

_ “I won’t give up on you; even if I have to knock all the doors around the world to find you.” _

\--M.F. Moonzajer

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlBskd3IaNw -- this video very heavily inspired richie's
> 
> i will go anywhere with you -- julia nunnes  
> waterloo -- abba  
> come sail away -- styx  
> elephant love medely -- moulin rouge!  
> a summer in ohio -- the last five years
> 
> my tumblr: andthwasp  
> rebloggable link: https://andthwasp.tumblr.com/post/190350502542/dreams-passing-by-reddie-anti-soulmate-au-part
> 
> next stop: what happens in maine


End file.
